The Cards of Fate
by DaSpec
Summary: Foreseeing a future submerged in darkness, a woman, wielding a power shrouded in mystery, intends to prevent it from becoming reality. In doing so, she'll be faced with decisions of sacrifice, identity and destiny.


Prologue

A strong cold wind blew, causing the leafless tree branches to sway. Hunching over a wooden walking stick, she began coughing into a thin handkerchief. The pain stabbed at her lungs like a hundred hot needles, each time another dry cough shook her fragile body. After a few agonizing moments she regained her composure. It was proving to be increasingly difficult to ignore the ever growing discomfort in her chest, nevertheless the old woman lifted her hood and proceeded into the woods.

Certain things must not be left as they are. There was still a part to be played.

Soon the old woman came upon a small clearing. It was there that she found the person she had been looking for; in the place she would always retire to when seeking solace.

At the center of the clearing was a young girl, sitting silently on a stump of a tree. The old woman's eyes were drawn to the ground surrounding the girl, for it was littered with numerous cards, each of them intricately designed with a variety of characters and symbols. The girl sat, unmoving, eyes shut tight, with a single card clutched in both her hands, and at the center of her forehead, was the shape of a lightning bolt, shining brightly in an eerie golden light.

The old woman approached the girl, leaves crunching underneath her soft footsteps. When the girl opened her eyes, the lightning bolt immediately ceased it's glow and faded from her skin. She did not seem surprised by the old woman's arrival, in fact her eyes remained fixated on the card in front of her, as if refusing to acknowledge her elder's presence.

The woman lowered her hood to see the solemn expression on the girl's face, behind a long flowing strand of violet hair. It pained her to speak and her voice was raspy, but she forced herself to do so. She asked the question the young girl knew would be asked. "You've seen it, haven't you?"

The girl did not respond. She looked up slightly, stopping when her eyes found the bloodied handkerchief sticking out of the old woman's clothing. The young girl's delicate features hardened to stone. Still, seeping through the cracks, something could be seen. Contempt perhaps?

"Rose, you must-"

"You are not afraid." Her voice was firm and sudden. The dry leaves rustled, as the wind let out another weary moan. The scarf worn around the girls neck fluttered lightly in the breeze. "Why aren't you afraid?"

As expected, the old woman's state of mind to the coming events would not go unnoticed, given the girl's unnatural sensitivity to such things. "You believe I should be afraid Rose?" The girl chose not to answer, continuing to avoid the old woman's gaze entirely. "My soul lies bared before you. Tell me, what exactly do you make of it?"

The girl remained silent for a long time, but eventually lifted her head and looked at the old woman. "Your soul is... undisturbed. I see a a gentle sea in you, where I would see thrashing waves in anybody else." The girl then repeated her question, but this time her voice wavered, unintentionally. "Why aren't you afraid?"

Why am I not afraid? The answer to the question would not be easily grasped, especially by someone as young as a fourteen year old girl. Although, perhaps her unique nature would allow her to do so regardless; maybe even more so than others. It would be best to tread carefully either way.

"Throughout my life I've grown to understand many things, Rose. Know that it is alright to be sad or to feel afraid, but one must not dwell on those feelings for long. Fear has the power to control and must not be allowed to do so." The old woman paused slightly. "I've grown to understand what will soon happen. I have embraced it, for it is fate."

The answer the old woman gave was obviously less than satisfying for the girl. The distress was becoming more visible on the girl's face. "How? How can something so final be understood."

"There is nothing final in a cycle," the woman replied calmly.

"I don't. . .but. . ."

The old woman slowly walked up to the young girl, passing over the long shadows that were being cast by the surrounding trees, carefully avoiding the neglected cards which lay on the floor. She extended her hand. "May I see the card you are holding?" The girl hesitated for a moment before complying with her request. The old woman took the card and examined it. She let out a calm sigh.

The card held the design she knew it would: A black armored horseman, atop a white steed, carrying a black standard, emblazoned with a white flower. Surrounding him lay the dead and dying. But the feature that stood out the most, and by far the most unsettling to the uninitiated, was the stark grin upon the horseman's skinless face and his empty gaze through hollowed eye sockets. The card rarely ever foretold the actual event of its namesake, but concerning the current situation. . . death was death.

"Listen to me Rose. This card is just one card. It is one card among many others." Using her walking stick for support, the old woman picked up five seemingly random cards from the ground. "To understand the card of death you must understand all of them; the sun, the star, the magician, the lovers, the fool. Do not single out death, for if you do, you blind yourself to all other aspects of the cycle. And the world cannot afford someone such as yourself, someone who can truly see, to become blind."

The girl opened her mouth to respond, but said nothing. Once again she lowered her eyes, but no longer was there contempt in her visage. No. It was now replaced with something else. Shame perhaps?

The old woman spoke. "So, how can one come to understand death? Well, I believe that's the wrong question to be asking. Because you will not find the answer of what it means to die before first finding the answer of what it means to live, for without life there is no death and without death there is no life."

The old woman said no more and it took a few moments for the girl to finally respond. "I- I'm sorry. It. . . It's just that. . ."

The old woman gently raised the girl's chin with the edge of a finger. "Do not be sorry child, for your life is just beginning. It's not easy, but if you open your eyes and search for it, you will find the answer you seek to know."

The girl's eyes glimmered as they looked into the old woman's. "I. . .I understand. I mean I will."

The old woman wiped a tear from the girl's cheek with her thumb and smiled. "I know you will child." The sun had almost retreated past the horizon, as it's light painted the sky with a warm amber. "It's getting late. We should be heading back to camp. I'll help gather your things." She bent down with the intention of collecting the remaining cards that were scattered around their feet, but before she could, the girl touched her hand against hers.

"No it's alright. I'll do it," the girl said. She took a deep breath then leaned forward, lightly placing her fingers atop each card on the ground. The instant she made contact with a card, it lit up in a pale blue aura, which seemed to give the card life. The cards fluttered and danced under the girl's palm, as if she was pulling them with invisible strings. One after the other, they began to arrange themselves on top of each other, until all seventy-eight cards were neatly stacked, forming a glowing deck on the tree stump.

Witnessing such performances would always bring a sense of awe and wonder to the old woman. The tarot deck radiated one last pulse of blue light before dimming into nothing. "I see your manipulation is improving."

The girl ran a finger across the top of the deck. "Yes. . .I'm remembering more," she said softly and somewhat distant.

The old woman stared and couldn't help but feel a sense of pity for the girl; the mysterious girl that was a mystery even to herself. "These memories you possess and the powers that comes with them, mysterious as they are to you and I both, are just more aspects of your life you should strive to understand."

"Like the cards in a tarot deck, right?"

"Precisely. All of us are dealt different cards and wether we decide to reject them or embrace them, will ultimately define who we are." The woman picked up the tarot deck. "These are the cards fate has dealt you," she said, holding the deck towards the girl. "And it's up to you on how you decide to play them."

The girl looked at her deck of tarot cards in front of her. The deck that held the empress, the star, the sun, but also held the tower, the devil, and death. She raised her hand. Rose took the deck. "I understand."

* * *

Later that night, as the old woman lay in the caravan she thought about life; the hardships and the moments of prosperity. She thought of people she'd known; family, friends, adversaries. But no matter where her mind decided to reflect or how far it wandered, it was always reeled back to the young girl she had helped raise. The blessed child that was gifted and burdened in more ways than one, in ways no other person was. And then the old woman felt a twinge of sadness, knowing she wouldn't see the girl blossom into the woman who would undoubtedly play an important role in the world. But she then let herself feel content knowing she would do so and knowing she would follow the path she deemed righteous.

The old woman looked out of the window and found herself hoping that the girl sleep well and for her dreams to be pleasant, devoid of worry. She let out a wheezy cough, and as the first snowflake of winter fell, she felt a comforting warmth overcome her very soul. She closed her eyes and slept.

_Let the spirits guide you, Rose._


End file.
